


let your heart be light

by deadlybride



Series: the life of a PhD isn't easy [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Christmas Fluff, Coda, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 02:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13090161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlybride/pseuds/deadlybride
Summary: Jensen's in a bad mood as they get ready to go to the faculty holiday party.





	let your heart be light

They have to leave for the party in an hour. Jared took a shower earlier, when he got home from the office, and he’s in jeans and his ratty old UT hoodie and fuzzy socks, idly watching the Bulls struggle to keep up with the 76ers. Jensen, unsurprisingly, is freaking out.

“What could you possibly be doing in there?” he calls.

There’s a clatter of something in the bathroom. “I don’t want to hear it,” Jensen says back, in his ‘stern teacher’ voice, and Jared rolls his eyes. It’s snowing again, outside the window, and Jared leans back against the stack of pillows on their bed, watches it fall. Two years out of Texas and he still can’t get over it. Snow at Christmas. Practically a miracle.

Jensen’s talking to himself in the bathroom, nothing Jared can actually hear but it’s got that sharp quality of a bad day boiling over. Jared sighs, stretches his legs out and crosses them at the ankles. “How’d your students do on their final?” he says.

“Christ, don’t get me started.”

“That bad, huh?” The Sixers draw another foul and he watches them all square up for the free throws. He wishes he had a beer, but they’ve both been too busy to shop for the past few days. “Is this the behavioral class, or the principles kids?”

“Karla hasn’t finished grading the behavioral exams—it’s the principles class that sucks. Of course, it always is.” Jensen comes out of the bathroom, then, just a towel around his waist, and heads over to the big dresser they share to rifle through for underwear or pants or something, who knows. Jared watches his back move, the game completely forgotten. This is a much better show. “I had this girl email me, asking me to please give her a C, because—I don’t even remember, but I looked up her class score and she earned a 42. I don’t get why these kids think they’re gonna be econ majors when they can’t pass the first class.”

“It’s a mystery,” Jared agrees, calmly. Not the first time he’s heard this one. Jensen slants a glance over his shoulder, and Jared shrugs, all innocence, and Jensen rolls his eyes and grabs whatever he was grabbing, goes back into the bathroom.

Halftime on the game and Jared girds himself, heaves off the bed. His hair—well, it looks how it always looks. He pulls on the nice jeans, the ones Jensen got him for Christmas last year, and a dark soft sweater, good belt, dress boots that Leila from the department complimented him on at the new faculty welcome dinner they’d gone to, when they first arrived. “Hey,” he says, zipping them up, “didn’t you say Leila’s pregnant, again? Do they know yet if it’s a girl or a boy?”

“Girl,” Jensen says. When Jared goes into the bathroom Jensen’s frowning at his hair in the mirror, a navy blue button-down hanging open over his pale chest. Jared finds his cologne in the drawer on his side of the sink, watches Jensen fuss. When it’s summer they need to get home to Texas, get a tan back on that skin. He misses the shoulder freckles. Jensen lets out a short frustrated breath and apparently gives up, though his hair looks fine to Jared. “They should name the baby Thank God for the Delay on My Tenure Clock Abramovitz.”

“I don’t think that’ll fit on the birth certificate,” Jared says, and Jensen snorts, leaning in close to the mirror to look at some imaginary spot. His face is still set into grim lines, though, not really laughing, and Jared knows that Jensen actually does like Leila but you couldn’t tell from how he’s acting.

Back in the bedroom, Jared flicks through some playlists on his phone and then sets it in the stereo cradle, presses play. Jensen vocally hates bright poppy Christmas music, and Jared calls him a Grinch for it but secretly agrees. They compromise on this: the hymns they grew up with done in soft instrumentals, cello and piano and harp. No singing, but Jared can hear the words in his head anyway, and he turns the volume up just enough that Jensen should be able to hear it in the bathroom. He goes and leans against the big window, watches the snow fall. His shoulders are starting to feel tight, and he closes his eyes.

“ _Damn_ it,” he hears, sharp. Jensen’s nervous for no reason. His colleagues are relatively easy to get along with and this is just a party at the chair’s house, same as last year. Just one difference.

“Do you not want me to come?” Jared says.

There’s a thump, behind him. “No—what?”

Jared takes a deep breath and turns around, sits down on the window seat. Jensen’s dressed, now, neat pressed slacks and the argyle sweater Jared makes fun of pulled over the top of his button-down, his hair perfectly mussed, his eyes startled. “I don’t need to go,” Jared says. “If it’ll be easier for you.”

“What are you—” Jensen starts, shaking his head, and then his expression clears. “Oh—god, are you talking about Walker?”

The particularly crotchety, unfortunately tenured prick who made what Jensen referred to as a  _comment_  after the welcome dinner, but Jensen refused to elaborate on what exactly he said. Jared couldn’t make it to last year’s party, since his own at the firm was the same night and he couldn’t miss a major social event in his first year. This is the first time since then he’s coming to a department event, as Jensen’s giant obviously male date. “I’m not trying to be an equality activist here,” Jared says, shrugging. Jensen frowns. “If it’s too much, if you don’t want to be obvious at work, I’m okay with that. If that’s why you’re—”

He waves a hand vaguely, and Jensen’s frown just deepens. “I’m being a prick, is what you’re saying, and you’re trying to give me an out?”

Jared shrugs, jaw set. “Being kind of a bitch, is actually what I’d say.”

He hadn’t quite realized that he was this irritated. The current song ends and his phone starts playing a soft version of  _I’ll Be Home for Christmas_ , and Jensen rolls his eyes but also walks straight across the rug in his socked feet and goes to his knees between Jared’s spread legs. Jared blinks, but Jensen only lays his hands on Jared’s knees, slides his hands up to his hips, his elbows resting easy on the tops of Jared’s thighs. When he finally looks up and meets Jared’s eyes, he looks chagrined. “I want you to know something,” he says.

“What,” Jared says. It’s a struggle to be irritated with Jensen in this position—he’s got too many good memories associated with it. Pavlov’s domestic partner.

Jensen squeezes his hips through the layer of his jeans, his tucked-in sweater. “If I ever let my behavior be affected by fucking Walker,” he says, “I have had my brain dissolved by undergraduates and you should just put me out of my misery.” Jared huffs, and Jensen’s eyes crinkle just a bit at the corners. “I’m serious. You know, it’ll have been a good run, but—sunk cost fallacy. It’s not worth going on if I ever actually start paying attention to Captain Homophobe, we’ll just have to cut our losses.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jared says, making his voice serious, and Jensen smiles at him, even though it’s small.  _Captain Homophobe_ , he thinks, and tucks that away. It’s the most he’s gotten out of Jensen since the  _comment_  and he wants to ask what that means, but he knows he won’t get an answer. Maybe he can find some way to unobtrusively break Walker’s wrist if they have to shake hands at the party. He leans back against the big poofy pillow in the window seat and Jensen pulls back a little, folds his arms over Jared’s thighs. “So. What’s the deal.”

“It’s—” Jensen shakes his head, drops his eyes so he’s looking through Jared’s stomach. He licks his lips. “Nothing. I mean, not one thing. I’ve got that paper to finish with Traeger, and students are annoying, and Karla is a sweet TA but her paper proposal sucks and I don’t know how to help her fix it without just giving her an idea, and it’s Christmas in like ten days and I still don’t have anything for your dad that will magically make him like me, and I can’t crap out a baby to push my tenure clock back and I’m worried I won’t get anything significant published in the next three years and then, god, who knows what.”

Jared wraps a hand around Jensen’s where it’s fisted against his thigh, and Jensen glances up at him, shakes his head again. “I’m just—bitching,” he says, and pinches Jared’s thigh, and Jared obligingly says  _ow_. Jensen smiles, and leans down to kiss the spot he pinched, a little warm press through Jared’s jeans. “Honest. That’s what I mean. It’s not—anything, really. Just a shitty day, and I’m stressed, and I’m taking it out on you, and now I’m going to make you go to my stupid work party with me, and I feel like an asshole.”

“They’ll probably have wine?” Jared tries.

“I’d rather have about a twelve-pack of Shiner right now,” Jensen says, but he’s watching Jared’s face. After a long moment, the stereo pulsing out a slow jazzy version of the chestnuts roasting song, he sits further back on his heels, puts his hands back on Jared’s knees. “Okay?”

It’s a more serious question than it should be. A little lump rises in Jared’s throat, but he swallows it away. “Yeah,” he says, and takes Jensen’s hands in both of his, helps pull him to his feet and then lifts him by the waist, tugs him in quick with a startled  _oof_  and gets a lapful of—boyfriend, for lack of a better word, but that doesn’t seem sufficient. Jensen clings to him for a second, startled, and then wriggles his weight into a more comfortable position. Jared hooks his hands behind the small of his back so he doesn’t overbalance and Jensen leans into it, makes enough space between them that he can look down into Jared’s face.

He’s so beautiful. Jared doesn’t say that out loud, much, not least because it makes Jensen flush and then hit him, but it’s true. Almost five years together and he’s still amazed, sometimes. Jensen left his top button undone and Jared carefully brings a hand up, parts the shirt more so he can see the soft hollow of his throat. Leans in and kisses there, and feels Jensen’s heart beat solid and steady under his skin.

A hand cards through his hair, soothing. “I was thinking,” Jensen says, and Jared lays his forehead against his collarbone, hums in response. Jensen’s fingers work against his scalp, long dragging pulls, and it’s draining the tension out of his shoulders. “Maybe, when I get back from the conference in January, we could look into getting a dog.”

Jared pulls back. Jensen lets him, but he keeps his hand in Jared’s hair. “But—” he says, and shakes his head. “We talked, about—how it wasn’t fair, in the apartment, and you had that whole speech about picking up dog shit in the snow.”

“I still think it sounds like hell, yes,” Jensen says. He tucks Jared’s hair behind his ear, drags his thumb over his fresh-shaven jaw. “But then I thought, well. I can deal with hell. And I thought, hey. It’d make you happy.” He shrugs, thumb still moving idly against Jared’s jaw. “Seems like as good a reason as any.”

Jared covers Jensen’s hand, turns his head and presses a kiss into the palm. “Jen,” he says, kind of helpless. “You—really? You’ve been thinking about this?”

“That weird-shaped present under the tree is a leash,” Jensen says, smiling down at him. “So you can stop making filthy guesses about harnesses or whatever, freak.”

“That totally won’t stop the filthy guesses,” Jared promises, and then leans up and kisses him, for real, sliding both hands up his back to keep him in place. Jensen’s mouth parts all startled under his, but he’s as sweet as ever, plush mouth and tender lips, mint on his tongue. Jensen fists both hands into his hair and holds on, lets Jared control the kiss, and Jared wishes very much, just now, that they didn’t have a work function to get to. When he finally pulls back, Jensen’s mouth is a pretty damp red, his cheeks flushed. He runs a thumb over the lovely swell of Jensen’s bottom lip, takes a deep breath. “When we get home,” he says, flicking his eyes up to Jensen’s. “I’m going to lay you out and show you how thankful I am for my present.”

He’s half-hard just imagining it—the snow outside and the two of them warm together, and the half-light from their lamps, Jensen’s skin creamy pale against their dark blue sheets. He’s going to take his time, like they haven’t been able to for weeks and weeks.

Jensen’s eyes are dark, and he kisses the pad of Jared’s thumb—but then he climbs backward off his lap, takes a visible deep breath and glances at his watch. “I’ll hold you to that,” he says, and he’s so flushed and perfect that Jared surges to his feet and kisses him one more time, leaning down and cupping his face between his palms.

The snow’s not too deep, but it’s still freezing, and Jensen tugs on his boots while Jared grabs their coats and scarves. Jensen’s phone beeps just as Jared’s putting on his gloves and that means the cab’s waiting downstairs, and they’re almost out the door when Jared realizes what he’s hearing. “Shit, hang on,” he says, and trots back through the apartment to the bedroom where his phone’s still pumping out music— _Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas_ , now, cut off in the middle when he yanks the phone out of the holder and shoves it in his pocket. Jensen’s already called the elevator, and so it’s only a few seconds for Jared to lock the door and then they’re in the car by themselves, sliding down to the snowy Chicago street outside. Jared watches the numbers tick down, like he always does, and so it’s a surprise when Jensen’s gloved hand finds his and squeezes it, briefly. Jensen’s not the hand-holding type.

When he looks over, Jensen’s still just a bit flushed, or maybe he’s flushed for some other reason. He takes his hand away and shoves it into his coat pocket. “Love you,” he says, watching the falling numbers on the display.

Jared looks at his profile for a second, traces the perfect lines of it, and then leans over and kisses his temple, soft, just once. “How much trouble do you think I’d be in if I poured snow down Walker’s pants?” he says, and grins when Jensen lets out a bright startled laugh. “Tis the season, right? Snowball fight at the faculty party?”

“I will actually kill you dead,” Jensen says, smiling, and when the doors open Jared lets Jensen push him out into the lobby but then hooks an arm over his shoulders, tugs him in close, and keeps him tucked there, warm, as they walk together out into the snowy night.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're wondering--while he was waiting for Jensen to finish his PhD, Jared stuck around at UT and got his MS in Engineering. Jensen placed at the University of Illinois-Chicago, so Jared followed him up there and got a job as an electrical engineer at a firm in town. He's going to suggest that they get a Great Dane; Jensen will struggle with how to politely scream _fuck no_ until Jared cracks and admits he's kidding. I suspect they'll settle on something medium-sized, who will enjoy going on runs with Jared. Maybe a collie. (Imagine the collie determinedly herding Jensen into the bedroom. Jared would laugh so hard.)
> 
>  
> 
> [posted here on my tumblr if you'd like to reblog](http://zmediaoutlet.tumblr.com/post/168776893614/let-your-heart-be-light)


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